


seasonal hurricanes

by keymlks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crushes, Did I mention pining?, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Osasuna, Pining, angst? i’m not sure, i like to think the twins are each other’s wingman, i think, kinda cheesy, kita/atsumu is only implied but they have a scene so, miya osamu needs hugs, suna rintarou needs hugs, this is so bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:44:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23711725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keymlks/pseuds/keymlks
Summary: suna rintarou isn’t a romantic. he’s far from hopeless, and he doesn’t spend his time thinking about ideal dates with no one to spend them on.if asked, suna rintarou just shrugs and says he doesn’t care about love, because he doesn’t.it’s overhyped — love.at least that’s what suna rintarou thinks, until he’s hit with hurricane miya osamu, and suddenly he has no idea how to breathe.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 20
Kudos: 478





	seasonal hurricanes

**Author's Note:**

> hiii this is kinda my first fic in awhile for anything so i’m so sorry for the horrible grammar and shitty plot but there’s too little osasuna fics and i thought i needed to contribute 
> 
> also sorry for the no caps, i just typed everything out before realising that some people don’t like this small caps thing so 🤡

suna rintarou isn’t a romantic. he’s far from hopeless, and he doesn’t spend his time thinking about ideal dates with no one to spend them on.

if asked, suna rintarou just shrugs and says he doesn’t care about love, because he doesn’t.

it’s overhyped — love. 

at least that’s what suna rintarou thinks, until he’s hit with hurricane miya osamu, and suddenly he has no idea how to breathe.

-

it starts off slow, just small things he notices about osamu. the way he smiles a little when he greets anyone, in the polite way that atsumu would never reach. the way he sighed softly after lessons ended, or the way his left eye twitched whenever atsumu did anything that pissed him off.

he doesn’t realise it’s a crush, because boys don’t like boys and girls don’t like girls. it’s how the world works.

but that’s not what anyone tells him when he wakes up at the crack of dawn with his pants wet and sticky, his thoughts hazy with grey hair, soft smiles and rough hands.

“fuck.”

fuck indeed.

suna’s reaching the end of first year when he realises he likes miya osamu, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

-

“suna,” osamu calls and suna flinches at the voice. the wet dream was still vivid in his head after all, even with a fresh start in second year.

(no, he will not admit that he’s had that dream another two more times)

“follow me to buy some meat buns before ‘tsumu comes,” osamu urges, slinging his bag over his shoulder, staring at suna to wait for his reply.

“mm, sure.” suna hums, because saying no to miya osamu was almost always virtually impossible.

“‘tsumu’s been taking more of my food lately and it’s getting annoying,” osamu frowned and suna resisted the urge to smoothen the wrinkles out.

“take some of his,” suna shrugged nonchalantly.

“i’ve tried, he just takes more of mine.” osamu grits out calmly. 

rule #1 in miya osamu guide is to never take his food if you don’t want him to hate you. 

rule #2 is to offer miya osamu food if you want him to fall for you — except the food needs to be good and suna doesn’t know how to cook.

“shave his head bald,” suna replied easily again and osamu snorted. suna risked a side glance only to find osamu with that soft relaxed smile on his face.

the same one he had fallen for, over and over again.

trust miya osamu to fall for food, trust suna rintarou to fall for soft smiles and grey hair.

“i’ll buy you a meat bun if you help me,” osamu grinned. 

“deal,” suna said in determination, as if he would say no even if osamu had offered him a horse dipped in sewage water. “i’ll hold him in place and you can do the honours.”

suna made a chopping hair motion with his hands, which osamu replied to by laughing a little.

suna counts it as a little victory, even as the warm butterflies set into his stomach.

they chew him alive but he’ll ignore it for now.

-

watching miya osamu tasted a lot like cotton candy.

except the cotton candy was dipped into water, and you could see the fluff disappear with every droplet.

suna only realised how far away he was from osamu during the training camp in their second year.

it’s not like he always thought he had a chance with him, no. but there was always a tiny bit of hope that lingered somewhere in his lungs that he should’ve crushed a long time ago.

miya osamu was beautiful and so very far away. at least that’s what suna thinks as he stares at osamu’s back that’s facing away from him.

he’s sleeping already, he’s always been a quick sleeper like that — sleeping in class, lunch, on suna’s shoulder, anywhere.

suna wants to sleep too, although he can’t help but replay everything that happened, over and over again.

it was just a game of truth or dare. a childish high school game that was brought up by atsumu.

kita had been against it at first, because sleep was important but atsumu batted his eyelashes a few times and kita let him.

the nerve of this guy.

“kita, truth or dare?” osamu had asked the captain.

“dare,” kita said, sounding completely unbothered.

“kiss the prettiest person in the room,” osamu shrugged, leaning backwards as kita scanned the room.

at first, suna thought he was going to stand up and ask for a mirror.

instead, kita stands up and walk right over to atsumu, squatting down and planting a soft kiss right on his forehead.

there was full complete silence for a second as atsumu stilled and a blush spread across his entire face.

“what is this? a get-together party?” osamu drawled on, sounding bored even though he was the one who dared kita to do that.

kita didn’t say anything, he just stood back up and went back to sit in his place in the circle beside aran.

when the next time the bottle lands on him, suna says ‘truth’ because he doesn’t think he’d ever have enough nerve to go up and just kiss osamu like that.

“what’s your favourite food?” atsumu asks and suna frowns hard. it didn’t sound like a question you’d ask in a really conspiratorial high school game about love and drama.

“ice pops,” he replied easily, because they’re cold.

“really?” osamu deadpanned, sounding disappointed.

suna nods solemnly, lifting a fist to his heart.

“that’s lame,” atsumu stuck out his tongue at him. suna did a peace sign in retaliation.

in hindsight, when they started playing this dumb game, suna should’ve expected a question like this.

the bottle had landed on osamu and he’d asked for truth.

pussy.

(“that’s rich coming from you, suna!”)

“your favourite girl in your level,” aran had asked, smiling a little as he did.

suna will probably never admit it, but at that moment, he thinks all the sound was stolen from his ears, and his breath wasn’t coming out smoothly anymore.

please don’t say anyone. please don’t say anyone.

osamu looked like he was considering for a second before glancing back up.

“yabuki sakura?” he answered even though it sounded more like a question. 

“oohhh,” gin had muttered lowly.

suna doesn’t know why but his throat constricts and suddenly he feels nauseous all over. he wants to throw up. why did he even take part in this game.

the game ends shortly after that, because kita had reached his limit and decided that everyone should just shut up and head to bed before coach ended up raging.

no one realises suna’s weird behaviour, and even if they did, they didn’t say anything.

because when suna’s staring back up at the ceiling again, he realises how far away miya osamu is, even if he’s right there next to him.

no, exactly because he’s right there next to him.

-

suna wakes up with a headache the next morning with eye bags below his eyes and looking like a zombie overall.

kita eyes him strictly before immediately benching him and suna doesn’t complain, because he feels like shit.

osamu glances at him and his eyebrows tug together in worry. it’s platonic. everyone looks worried.

well, kita just looks angry and annoyed. 

“this is why we shouldn’t have stayed up,” kita sighed, pointedly glaring at atsumu. suna wants to point out that he ended up kissing atsumu the night before, but it just made him feel salty inside.

it’s not fair, to him, to kita or to anyone actually. 

“suna, feeling better?” atsumu asks an hour later and he desperately wants to say yes because he’s itching to get onto the court, to do something with his hands.

when suna steps back into the court, osamu stares at him for five seconds, his eyes filled with worry but also calculating. as if weighing the chances of suna fainting in the court or something similar. suna found it uncanny.

but osamu eventually smiles at him, warm and whole. again, it’s that smile. suna feels wobbly. 

he smiles back, albeit hesitantly.

-

when they go to nationals, everyone looked a lot less nervous than they actually were.

except atsumu, his confidence overflowed and affected everyone else.

well, half of them didn’t really show much emotions anyway. suna has the ‘rumoured perfect poker face’ whatever that meant, osamu was a watered down version of atsumu when it came down to these things, so that meant that he didn’t feel that nervous either. 

kita just looked like kita, hell, he even smiled earlier that day. 

(at least that’s what he hears from atsumu, who wouldn’t stop gushing about him as they sat in the hot spring)

so when suna tells everyone he’s going out for a walk, he doesn’t expect osamu to follow him.

“wait up, i’m coming too!” he called after suna, who turned around, looking a little surprised.

he’s got his feelings under control, at least it’s just succumbed to a little vibration under his skin whenever he looked at osamu for too long. or maybe the heating of his cheeks when osamu caught him staring.

suna thinks he’s put a lid on his feelings for osamu, at least until this whole tournament was over. it wasn’t fair if their team lost because suna wasn’t in his best condition due to his hopeless feelings.

that didn’t mean that there weren’t any butterflies anymore, or the panicking that started whenever he and osamu were alone together.

which was exactly what was happening right now.

(atsumu called it ‘gay panic’)

“are you nervous?” osamu asked, his tone a little breathless as if he had been running for too long.

suna tried to convince himself that it was not attractive and horribly failed.

“yeah,” he doesn’t add the ‘because you’re beside me right now and i don’t know what to say ahahahahaha’ behind his words. besides, he’s pretty sure osamu was referring to the match tomorrow.

“you?”

“nope,” osamu replied easily. suna scrunched his nose.

“confident bastard.”

“that’s atsumu, not me.” osamu shrugged. “i just have enough confidence not to panic.”

suna still doesn’t look at him, just stares forward and let his legs do the job of walking.

because he knows if he turns right now then he’ll come face-to-face with one of osamu’s smiles and who knows what he’ll do. 

something stupid, probably.

“at least you aren’t as nervous as you were during first year,” osamu said, his tone light.

“i think i was vibrating the entire time,” suna frowned. he didn’t know where they were walking. osamu seemed to be leading them, or maybe suna was leading them. 

he didn’t really know. their pace matched evenly

osamu snorted. “you sound like a mouse.”

“which mouse vibrates?” suna rolled his eyes fondly, exhaling into the chilly air and shivering a little.

there’s a short silence before something warm and soft was dumped onto him.

suna thought it was osamu’s smile, personified and thrown into his face, but turns out it was just a scarf.

it still smelt like osamu, though. 

he pulls it off his face and for the first time that day, or week — when was it the last time he looked at osamu? 

he looked at him, properly.

and then regretted it all at once again because he feels his face heat up and then there’s the swooping of his heart again.

“what?” osamu asked, effectively snapping suna out of his internal panic.

suna blinked, looking back down at the scarf again, trying to hide his blush.

at least he could blame it on the cold.

“what...?” suna repeats, slowly staring back up at osamu who was giving him a ‘are you serious?’ face.

“you’re obviously cold, we can’t have our middle blocker getting sick the day before the match.” osamu rolled his eyes, looking away from suna.

suna continues staring at him though.

“oh,” suna said lamely, swallowing as he watched osamu. and instead of saying something like ‘it stinks’ or some other remark, he wraps the scarf around his neck. 

“thanks.”

suna faces down again and pretends that the flush on his cheeks were from the wind, and the enhanced beating of his heart was caused by the nerves for tomorrow’s match.

“and here i was, going to buy you an ice pop to cheer you up.” osamu grinned at suna, all lazy and undeniably hot.

suna buries his face further into the scarf and tries not to die from inhaling the smell of osamu or the warmth of his cheeks.

fucking miya osamu and his suave smiles and words.

-

they lost.

kita looks disappointed but he smiles and hugs everyone, wipes away the tears that are wept.

ojiro sits silently at the corner, but if anyone asked, he was fine.

osamu lays his head on suna’s shoulder.

he falls asleep like that, looking peaceful.

suna doesn’t have the heart to wake him up, so for once, he gives in to his desires and he falls asleep too, his head on osamu’s shoulder.

-

suna practices. 

he practices serves until his palm’s on fire and it’s splotched with red. he jumps until his knees hurt and his muscles scream.

it’s been a day since they came back. no one’s necessarily at the gym, but kita had given suna the keys to it because he had taken up the role of ‘temporary captain’ of the second-years.

(“i’m only giving you the keys because i know if i hold them then i’ll keep practicing until my knees fall off.”)

and then there was the necessary “don’t do what i wouldn’t do.”

suna drops to the floor as the sweat drips down his forehead and his limbs feel like jelly. jelly that weighed like metal machines.

he’s annoyed at everything now, the world, himself, osamu, his feelings for osamu, volleyball.

he couldn’t sleep last night either, all he kept thinking about was osamu and his head on his shoulder. he felt guilty honestly. he should feel worse about losing the match but instead here he was, thinking about the scarf osamu had draped around his head and the warmth that followed.

suna wants that, but he thinks about the training camp again and he’s just so far away.

he’s tired.

the door slams open at that exact moment and suna doesn’t even have the energy to raise his head to see who it is.

there’s an agitated ‘tsk’ and then footsteps walking at lightning speed towards suna’s motionless body.

“suna?” the voice is gentle despite the agitated footsteps just before. suna closes his eyes. he doesn’t want to see his face, not yet.

the thing with the twins is that they have identical faces. except after you’ve stared at one of them too long, you start noticing the subtle differences.

suna’s never had trouble differentiating them.

“suna, hey,” it’s way too soft and suna wants to cry again. “hey, you okay?”

suna opens his eyes slowly, looking at osamu through blurry lenses. he smiles faintly. “peachy.”

there’s a light smack to his knee and osamu actually looks angry.

“don’t joke around, you scared me.” suna smiled a little bigger at that. the thought of osamu worrying about him gave him butterflies in his stomach.

there’s a hand on his forehead and suna’s so tired that he leans into it.

“you’re never going to hold the key ever again,” osamu sighed, flicking suna’s forehead. “do you need help getting up?”

suna brings an arm to shield his eyes from the light. “don’t want to.”

osamu snorted. “dumbass.”

suna laughed, and it came out sounding completely broken, more broken than he wanted it to sound.

there’s no sound coming from either of them and osamu tentatively starts playing with suna’s hair.

“suna, it’s not the end of the world if we lose one match.” osamu tells him, his fingers playing with a few strands of his hair. 

suna wants to tell him that no, it’s not so much the match but more so of osamu and his presence itself.

suna thought he had it under control, he thought he had put a lid over his feelings. but somehow, after the match, suna just felt everything flow out. 

losing a match meant that they weren’t good enough. sure, it was frustrating, but suna was just going to get better, he was going to practice so much that his limbs would numb up.

but feelings are different. he can’t practice forgetting his feelings until they eventually numb out — if containing his feelings taught him anything, it was that they were always going to come back stronger.

osamu brushes a strand of hair from suna’s eyes and it’s then that he realises what they’re doing. this weird domestic soft shit that suna was not used to.

he resists the urge to slap away osamu’s hand at the realisation, because it’s not fair if suna lets his feelings get the better of him. much more if he happens to hurt osamu along the way.

“we’re going to win the next match, right?” suna asks, just so he can end this suffocating silence. there was fondness lingering in the air and suna didn’t think he could actually handle that, not with osamu and his annoying face.

“of course,” osamu laughed, as if the statement was hilarious. it’s not. “ready to stand up?”

no, i want to stay here with your hands in my hair forever.

“i don’t think i can...” suna groaned. he really can’t, his limbs didn’t even feel like limbs anymore.

“i’ll carry you,” osamu immediately turned around, showing suna his back and allowing him to climb on it. 

suna felt weak in the knees but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t due to his deteriorating muscle energy. it was a different kind of weak.

“i have to lock the gym,” suna commented lamely. osamu looked a little offended that suna was this reluctant to just climb onto his back.

“you didn’t bring your bag, right?” osamu asked.

“no, i forgot.” 

“are you stupid?” osamu asked with a small smile on his face and suna immediately grinned.

“maybe,” he shrugged before pushing himself up and climbing onto osamu’s shoulders. he felt really bad that osamu had to carry him but he also didn’t really want to be put down. 

“am i heavy?” suna asked, his arms looping around osamu’s neck.

“not really,” osamu frowned, walking out the gym doors and locking them effortlessly. 

he looked graceful even with the whole human that was suna on his back.

“you’re really pretty,” suna blurted out by accident, a mistake fuelled by how close he was to osamu’s face. osamu stilled before a small smile etched itself onto his face and he continued walking leisurely.

“really?” suna didn’t answer, he was too busy having an internal panic. suna #1 was running around aimlessly and suna #2 was screaming helplessly. suna #3 and #4 were currently having a screaming contest and suna #5 just sat there, his eyes wide and completely silent.

“doesn’t that mean you find ‘tsumu pretty too?” osamu voiced and suna snapped out of his panic when he heard the slightly down tone in osamu’s voice.

suna leaned his head on osamu’s shoulder and he hummed, not particularly realising how much closer he was to osamu’s face.

“not really, you both look different.” suna murmured against osamu’s shoulder.

“oh? that’s a first,” suna could practically hear the smirk in osamu’s voice. “also, you’re being awfully soft.”

“it’s the tired talking,” suna murmured again. he didn’t even notice where osamu was walking, merely buried his face in the space between osamu’s neck and shoulder.

osamu didn’t move away either, so in that moment, suna just relaxed in his hold completely.

he was almost drifting off to sleep when he felt himself being put down onto a hard surface and osamu’s warmth leaving him.

“wha-“ suna blinked his eyes blearily and stared at osamu as the man shifted nervously in front of him. he sobered immediately after seeing that.

“‘samu?” he asked in confusion.

“hey, suna?” osamu clenched his fist, a small action that does not go unnoticed by suna.

“what?” 

was he going to talk about the match? about how they didn’t make it? maybe about atsumu who was being a little shit at home? 

“i like you.” 

“oh, er, me too?” suna answered even though his heart skipped a beat at that confession. but osamu probably meant it as a friend, right? he placed his hands down behind him to support him, only just realising that they were currently in an empty playground, the one near his house where he used to play as a child.

the, ‘i like you. so don’t stop being my friend just because we lost a match’ or something along those lines.

osamu made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “no, as in i like you.”

“i like you, suna rintarou. not as a friend.” 

the first thing that almost leaves suna’s mouth is ‘as a best friend?’ but then he pauses and a squeak tumbles from his mouth instead, leaving suna looking absolutely mortified.

osamu must’ve taken that face the wrong way though, because he’s quiet before he looks down, his face dejected.

and then he looks up and gives a light smile.

“it’s whatever, i’ll just carry you home...” osamu murmured, the smile looking too lopsided on his face.

suna feels his own face falling and before osamu can turn around to let suna climb on again, he grabs hold of osamu’s wrist and pulls his entire body to face him again.

it was a scene right out from a shoujo manga, all that was missing were cherry blossoms fluttering down with the wind. suna thinks osamu’s pretty enough to make up for the lack of cherry blossoms.

“i-“ suna’s voice cracks embarrassingly and he glances away before looking back up straight into osamu’s eyes.

if osamu could confess to him like that, then suna had to match his courage, right? if not then it would be unfair.

“i like you too,” suna whispered and his courage flew away just like that when he saw osamu’s eyes widen.

they stayed like that for seconds, maybe minutes, suna wasn’t conscious anymore. he thinks maybe they’re going to kiss, because osamu’s face is so close and if he just moves-

“rintarou,” osamu whispered before his lips touched suna’s own and he melted.

it was like fire to an ice cube, a moth drawn to a flame. suna whimpers into the kiss and shuts his eyes tightly. he’s going to be embarrassed about that later, but miya osamu’s lips were currently on his and he didn’t even care that he was crying anymore.

there weren’t any fireworks, no loud clashes or bright colours. although, suna thinks the loud and harsh beating of his heart could pass as fireworks in that moment.

“‘samu,” suna whispered quietly against osamu’s lips, his hands wrapping around osamu’s neck.

when the kiss broke, suna immediately tightened his grip on osamu, pulling him close.

“i’m not gonna run away,” osamu mumbled quietly against suna’s neck. “you don’t have to hold me that hard.”

“yeah, but.” it just feels good like this, you in my arms, you know?

“but?” osamu asked, his breath hot against the space between suna’s neck and shoulder.

“but.” 

“ugh, why do i like you.” osamu wrinkled his nose and suna laid his head onto osamu’s shoulder. 

“no backing out now,” suna mumbled. “i’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

“hug me? you didn’t seem like the type,” osamu snorted and suna felt himself smiling.

“you’re warm,” suna shrugged, pulling osamu even closer. 

“mhm.”

“buy me ice pops?”

“you’re shivering you idiot.”

-

suna rintarou isn’t a romantic, and he probably never will be. 

at least that’s what he wants to think as he watches osamu in the kitchen, pacing around, making onigiri for suna.

there’s soft music playing in the background as suna sits at the table, a hand on his chin and his eyes trail over osamu.

suna rintarou thinks he’ll never be a romantic, but watching osamu from afar seems to warm up his chest and fill them up with cherry blossoms so bright he might burst.

“what’re you staring at?” osamu asked, throwing a glance at suna before looking back at his plate of onigiri, organising them nicely.

“my boyfriend,” suna grinned when he saw the faint blush on osamu’s cheeks.

hurricane miya osamu hands him a plate of onigiri and suna rintarou eats it, slowly learning how to breathe again.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway,, i hope u enjoyed,, it’s a little shit and i don’t really know how to end it because i never end fics, i’m staring at my pile of wips aha
> 
> ok bye


End file.
